The Cartel (A Sarah Roberts Thriller Book 15)

by Jonas Saul

  “Suit up, boys. Let’s go tie this guy up and take his ride. It’s a bit ironic that one of Enzo’s falcones will be the one that leads us to him and in his own vehicle.”

  “Yeah, ironic,” Daniel mumbled.

  Parkman detected by the look on Daniel’s face that he wasn’t buying what Raúl was saying either. What else could they do? Drive away? Stay in the RV? Steal a random car?

  Even if Raúl wasn’t on the up and up, at least they’d be taking the vehicle of his associate, so there was that.

  This trip had been tainted since they started. Breaking Parkman out of the safe house was risky and stupid. They didn’t need him on this trip. Aaron’s teachers could’ve crossed the border and stayed in the RV the whole time without this unwanted attention. Now they had kidnapped him, crossed into Mexico with him and kidnapped a customs officer. Short of turning themselves in—which they wouldn’t do in Mexico—they had to keep moving forward and see where it took them.

  Sarah would.

  Parkman pulled the curtain at the front and stared at Manuel’s house for a full minute.

  “Okay. We go. There’s no sign of movement. Raúl, you take the lead. Alex, step outside first and disappear but stay close.”

  The door opened and swung shut.

  Alex was gone.

  “Daniel, leave the keys in the ignition in case we need to bolt. Benjamin, come with me and stay close to Raúl. Cool?”

  Parkman let the curtain fall back in place. The boys nodded.

  Parkman turned to Raúl. “Let’s go get your revenge.”

  Raúl moved for the door without a sound, Benjamin close behind him.

  Parkman leaned down to Daniel and whispered. “If this goes bad in there, pull up to the house and leave the door open. We may need to exit this area faster than we arrived.”

  “Got it.” Daniel slapped Parkman on the shoulder. “Just get the keys to that SUV.”

  Parkman left the RV and closed the door quietly. Benjamin and Raúl waited on the sidewalk. He joined them and as a trio, they headed down two houses to Manuel’s white gate.

  Parkman could almost feel Daniel’s eyes on him. Alex’s too. These were good guys. He didn’t want them stained with violence or murder. The underbelly of society was rough to take and colored your impression of humanity once exposed to it. You can never reclaim your innocence. You can never un-see something, undo something. Once you’ve seen it, killed it, consumed it, it became you. Some were comfortable with it, like Sarah. Others were scarred by it forever.

  At the gate, the RV suddenly seemed very far away. None of the boys had weapons. Parkman had thought the idea of having a couple of guns was a good one, but the boys didn’t want to kill anyone so savagely. If a death was needed, they all knew how to kill with their hands very efficiently.

  Raúl hit the buzzer at the gate and waited. He didn’t appear to be any more or less nervous than inside the RV, but Parkman was having trouble reading him. This could go either way and right now, to boost morale, they needed this to go their way.

  Raúl buzzed again.

  “Yeah?” a gruff male voice answered. “Who’s there?”

  “It’s Raúl. Let me in.”

  There was silence for a moment. Then, “Who’s with you?”

  “Reclutas.”

  Benjamin smacked Raúl’s arm and whispered, “What’s that mean?”

  Parkman leaned in close to Benjamin. “It means recruits,” he said, keeping his voice low. “He’s brought us to see if there’s a job we can handle for Manuel.”

  The gate buzzed open. Parkman followed Raúl as he moved to the side of the house and headed for the door halfway to the backyard. The gate closed behind them with finality. He looked back, but the street was deserted. An outside light flicked on as they approached the side door. All they could do now was ride this wave in.

  The door opened. A large man, about twenty-five years old, a bandanna covering his bald pate, stepped outside and looked Raúl up and down.

  “What the fuck you come here for, Ese?”

  “They forced me to,” Raúl said and stepped closer to Manuel.

  “Hey,” Parkman said as he felt Benjamin go rigid beside him. “Take it easy.”

  Raúl turned around and pointed at Parkman. “No, you take it easy. You’re da one who is fucked now.”

  “Alex,” Parkman shouted. “Raúl lied. Abort.”

  He turned around and faced two men holding handguns behind them.

  “What’s this?” he asked even as he understood. Coming to the side door allowed these guys to exit the house at the front and come around behind them. The slight delay at the gate gave them time to get armed and into position.

  Raúl had tried to set them up at the border. When that didn’t work, he did it again. This time he did a better job. Parkman could slap himself for believing Raúl’s fabricated tale but the sudden movement would probably get him killed.

  “Inside,” Manuel said behind them. “We got a little business to discuss in the basement.”

  Parkman had no play. He glanced at Benjamin, who seemed to figure the same thing.

  He turned slowly and headed for the open side door. As he passed Raúl, the customs officer drove a sucker punch across Parkman’s cheek. He narrowly missed braining himself against the doorframe with the sudden whip of his head to the side.

  “That’s for fucking up my job. Now I got to call them and tell them I was sick or something. They’re going to want an explanation. Why the hell would I just walk away from my job?” Raúl punched Parkman in the side. “You asshole!”

  Benjamin stepped up beside him. Parkman waved him off as he stood up and met Raúl’s glare.

  “You won’t live through the night,” Parkman stated in an even voice.

  “Get them to the basement,” Manuel shouted. “Now!”

  Parkman stepped inside and started downstairs. Benjamin followed with one of the gunmen coming down behind him.

  From the side door Parkman heard Manuel tell the other gunman to use his sound suppressor on his weapon when he killed the driver waiting in the RV.

  “Also, there’s another one,” Raúl said. “A short skinny one named Alex. He’s watching the house somewhere. Find him. Kill him. But bring me something. A hand, an arm. I don’t care. Cut something off and bring it to me. I need something to show Enzo. Now go.”

  The side door closed.

  Raúl locked it and started down the stairs.

  Chapter 21

  Aaron rested his wounded hand across his thighs as he watched Spanish—Alejandro Gonzales—open a box that sat on the table between him and Casper. Both men heard Alejandro say loud and clear that he would be their executioner. Did he mean he would kill them tonight? Was this the end? Had the Enzo Cartel tired of them or had they caught Sarah?

  He would have to wait and see. While waiting, he would watch for an opening and do something about leaving this place. In any good sparring in Shotokan Karate, you watch for an opening, a hole in your opponent’s defense, and strike. It was what he was used to, what he knew. It was what he would do tonight.

  “Inside this box,” Alejandro started, “I have a very special gift for the both of you.” He glanced in the open box, then turned back to Aaron. “But first I would like to update you both.”

  An office chair was wheeled in from the side. Alejandro sat and reclined backward. As before, one large light, a naked bulb, hung suspended from the roof of the barn illuminating their immediate area, but everything outside the light’s grasp was cast in darkness.

  They waited for him to speak. Aaron’s stomach roiled around and a cool sheen of sweat had broken out over his body. He glanced at Casper who seemed to be calm. Casper stared into the darkness, glanced left, averted his eyes from something, looked up, then down and met Aaron’s eyes. He winked, then continued his examination of the barn.

  A man stepped into view behind Alejandro and handed him a drink and a phone. Alejandro listened on the phone and handed it bac
k.

  The man disappeared in the gloom behind Alejandro’s chair.

  “I’ve been told that there are certain friends of yours who have come to Mexico to find you, Aaron.”

  Friends?

  “Three young men and an older male. Daniel, Benjamin and Alex. Also, a man named Parkman.”

  “What?” Aaron stood up from his seat so fast, he almost fell because he momentarily forgot his feet were secured with duct tape. A hand slapped down on his shoulder and rammed him back into the hard wooden seat.

  “Don’t worry about your friends anymore, Aaron.” Alejandro sipped the amber liquid in his glass and then offered a sardonic smile to Aaron. “They are being taken care of as we speak.” Alejandro turned to Casper, then back to Aaron. “Your little rescue didn’t pan out too well, did it?”

  Aaron fought the urge to call Alejandro every name he could think of. They were so tough with their gunmen and their small army. If they could go one on one, he would see how long Alejandro could keep that smug look on his face.

  Alejandro spun his office chair in a circle and then planted his feet to stop as soon as it faced Aaron again.

  “Sarah met with an accident today.”

  Aaron’s heart almost stopped in his chest. “You will die,” he whispered through his tightened jaw.

  “What was that? Speak up.”

  Pent-up fury forced its way through Aaron and he shouted the same three words. He leaned forward as far as he could, heat rising to his face.

  “I’m sure I will die one day.” Alejandro laughed and drank more liquid from his glass. “But I doubt I’m the one dying today. Although, we’re getting off topic. We aren’t here to discuss my death. We’re here to discuss Sarah’s and yours.” He waved a finger between the two men.

  Aaron’s head spun as he felt lightheaded. He was reeling with an insane fury. How did it get this far?

  “What happened to Sarah?” Casper asked.

  Casper’s voice broke through Aaron’s attention on Alejandro. He breathed in deep, lowered his eyes to the barn’s dirty floor and waited to hear what Alejandro would say next.

  “Sarah was a passenger in a Hummer when it was hit by a dump truck on the passenger side.” Alejandro paused to drink.

  Aaron breathed deep, holding his tongue.

  “No one has been able to locate the driver. I’ve been informed that Sarah is now in the hospital with a cracked ribcage. She’s currently under police guard.”

  Casper was probably wondering the same thing Aaron was. What the hell was Sarah doing in a Hummer? And who had she been with?

  Alejandro got up from his office chair. “Consider your friends dead. They’re locked in a basement about to be killed this minute. I have men on their way to the hospital to pick up Sarah and bring her here.” He looked at his watch. “As soon as the police guards change shift at eleven this evening, our man comes on duty. Then we take Sarah. But you won’t get to see her as we don’t need either one of you anymore.”

  He walked over to the box on the table and set his glass down. He reached inside the box and withdrew something that resembled an oven mitt. Alejandro turned it over in his hands.

  “I heard you two discussing your pathetic escape plan.” He looked at Aaron. “I found it interesting that you called me Spanish. I thought, hey, you should know my name before I kill you.” He set the glove on the table and removed another. “We’re not stupid down here. We have listening devices in your little cell that make parabolic devices pale in comparison. We hear everything and can even decipher mumbling under your breath.” He shrugged. “Who knows when a prisoner feels like talking to a fellow inmate? Why else would I put you two together?”

  Aaron looked over at Casper. His eyes weren’t as calm anymore. He seemed despondent. Like this was the end. Tied up and surrounded with so many armed men, it seemed hope would be fleeting, yet Aaron still had some. What else was there? Death or hope. As long as he was still breathing, until death was absolute, he would have hope.

  “This glove is a masterpiece.” Alejandro held one up and turned it over in his hand. “Have you ever heard of a bullet ant?”

  Aaron didn’t respond. Neither did Casper.

  Alejandro continued as if he hadn’t asked them a question. “A bullet ant looks like a reddish brown wingless wasp. They hail from the rainforests of Nicaragua. Their sting is so bad, so painful, that it feels like you’ve been shot, hence the name, bullet ant.”

  Aaron squirmed in his chair. Was the box filled with bullet ants and the glove was the only protection? What was Alejandro up to? Was he going to torture them to death?

  Alejandro picked up his drink and finished the beverage off. “They’re also called the 24-hour ant because the pain, waves of burning, throbbing pain, remains unabated for twenty-four hours without relief. There’s a stupid tribe in South America called the Satere-Mawe tribe. After sedating bullet ants, they weave them into a glove made of leaves, just like these two here.”

  The ants weren’t in the box. The ants were in the gloves. Aaron’s body weakened at the thought of putting that glove on.

  “This tribe,” Alejandro continued, “makes a tribe member put the gloves on for at least ten minutes while he’s being repeatedly bitten by what some consider the most painful bite of any insect in the world. This is a test of manhood and a test to become a warrior for the tribe. They do this exercise up to twenty times over the course of several months, per person.” Alejandro picked up one of the gloves and walked over to Casper. “You two are the lucky ones. You only have to wear the glove on one hand each and you only have to do it once.”

  He set the glove down on the table by Casper. Then walked over and placed the other glove by Aaron.

  “Now don’t worry. The bite will cause paralysis, but that’s only temporary. It’s something to do with the venom interfering with your central nervous system. But in about thirty minutes neither one of you will ever need to worry about your central nervous system, or any other system for that matter, ever again.”

  “What is this all for?” Casper asked. His voice didn’t waver or crack. He seemed quite calm. “Why do this?”

  “Because I enjoy watching a man’s pain threshold laid out for all to see. If there was a God, he wouldn’t have created us to have to deal with as much pain as the human body has to endure through the course of our lives. Since there is no God, that means there’s no devil. This is it.” He waved his hands around. “This one life. This is all we have and only the strong survive. Not only do I like killing off my enemy, I enjoy watching them endure pain. I think they call people like me a sadist, but that’s sorely misunderstood. I enjoy causing pain. It’s good for the soul.”

  “That’s what being a sadist is.”

  Alejandro shook his head. “See? Misunderstood.” He moved closer to Casper and smacked the table. “No more questions. Place the glove on your hand or be flayed.”

  “Flayed?”

  “I’ve done it before. I’ve skinned a man just to watch him bleed. I think the glove is a better alternative. Do it now, before the ants wake from their sleep.”

  Aaron stared across the table at Casper wondering what he was going to do. As much as he wanted to grasp at hope it was certainly fleeting. Adrenaline flowed through his blood and he shook uncontrollably, yet Casper seemed calm.

  Then Casper surprised him. He picked up the glove, slid his hand inside and placed it back on the table to wait.

  Alejandro clapped. “Well done. This ought to be good.” He turned to the guard on Casper’s right. “I’ve always wanted to see what happens when bullet ants start biting—”

  Casper shouted so abruptly and loud that Aaron jumped from his seat. Even Alejandro, the tough cartel man, jumped and stared at Casper.

  He held his hand up in front of his eyes and yelled like he was in the worst pain known to mankind while Alejandro leaned in close and studied Casper’s face.

  In Aaron’s peripheral vision, he noticed both guards on either side
of him had stepped closer to get a better look as Casper yelled. The wail, as well as Alejandro’s safety, had drawn them too close to Aaron.

  Aaron looked at the Kevlar vests and the guns the men held. The grenades strapped to their vests dangled from their individual clips. Everyone watched Casper as his face reddened with the screaming.

  They were dead no matter how this played out. It wouldn’t be without pain as evidenced by Casper’s shouting. Aaron decided it would be better to die fast and go out fighting than to sit around in the cartel’s barn being tortured.

  Aaron lunged to the left with his good hand, snapped a grenade off the guy’s vest, brought the pin to his mouth, bit it out and tossed it hard at Casper’s chair where it rolled between the legs and out behind the chair where two other guards stood. As he lunged for another grenade before the guy beside him stepped away, he prayed the delay from pulling the pin was at least ten seconds otherwise he was going to blow Casper up.